If Life is a Movie
by teamfreewifi
Summary: "I must admit that these feelings I have for you are… unexplainable, at best. I'm not sure if that's good for either of us." "I guess we'll have to find out together." Coffee and rain have one thing in common: they remind you of Nines. / A Detroit: Become Human one-shot. Cross-posted.


"You're the coffee that I need in the morning

You're my sunshine in the rain when it's pouring

Won't you give yourself to me"

\- Daniel Caesar

* * *

"Did you jump into a fucking pool before you came to work, L/N?" It was first thing in the morning and Gavin Reed was already giving you shit.

You shot him a look as you passed, making a beeline for your desk adjacent Chris Miller's. "Yeah, Reed. I just _love_ limiting my motion by walking around in wet clothes."

Chris looked up from his terminal the moment he heard your squeaking shoes against the linoleum floor. He blew a low whistle. "Jeez. That rain sure came out of nowhere."

"No shit," you hissed, dropping your bag and unceremoniously throwing your car keys onto your desk. "I'm gonna go get changed. You know where to find me."

You started heading for the locker rooms. As you passed the break room, Connor waved at you in greeting. "Good morning, Officer L/N."

"Morning, Connor. Can't talk," you said hastily. Your eyes landed on the android beside him, and you gave a quick "Morning, Nines" before heading down the hall.

The day was already a shit storm in the literal sense, so you didn't feel bad for taking your sweet time getting changed. Peeling the wet uniform from your skin, you thanked whatever powers that be that past-you remembered to leave a spare change of clothes in your locker. You combed out the frizz in your hair, aiming to make yourself look presentable as an officer of the law. Pinning on your badge, you ran a thumb over the #5125 that ran across it.

When you returned from the locker room some twenty minutes later, it seemed like everyone had come into the station. Officers were milling about. Suspects in handcuffs were being brought into the holding cells. Hank Anderson was nursing a mean hangover at his desk. It was the familiar hustle and bustle that you often enjoyed. As you approached your desk, you noticed a still-steaming cup of coffee sitting in the middle of it. You stood there for a moment, both confused and curious. Picking it up, you asked our partner, "Did you get me this?"

Chris didn't look up from his work as he answered. "Nope. Was there when I got back from the bathroom."

"Well, what if it's poisoned?"

"If you die, I get out of finishing this paperwork."

"Fuck off."

You sat then, cupping the drink in your cold hands and blowing on the hot surface. Your eyes scanned the other officers and detectives around the bullpen as you took a sip. Just how you liked it: with vanilla creamer.

The list of people who cared enough about you to get you coffee was already short. The list of people who cared enough to _know_ your coffee order was shorter.

Seated at his desk beside Reed was Nines. You noticed him staring in your direction from across the room. When you both made eye contact, a mild look of panic spread over his features, and he immediately looked away. His LED blinked yellow.

You took another sip, masking a bashful smile behind it.

Every day that week, you found a cup of coffee welcoming you on your desk. And every time, you would meet Nines' gaze from across the room — those icy grey eyes and slowly growing smile. And every time, you would feel something creep into your chest — those fluttering butterflies and slowly growing fondness.

When Sunday night rolled around, a few people from the department decided to head out to Jimmy's Bar for one last hurrah before the work week started all over again. Chris had convinced you to come along because he needed a designated driver, just in case the others got too drunk, and "we hardly bond outside of work, partner, let's go."

Suffice to say, there wasn't a lot of bonding with Chris after he took six shots and left to go throw up in the bathroom. Soon after, Connor and Tina Chen excused themselves from their seats. You swiped through your phone as you sat in alone in the booth, trying to pass the time before it was socially acceptable to leave. After a few minutes, Chris walked out from the back… and then promptly turned on his heel, almost immediately turning green.

You contemplated getting up to check on your partner. You contemplated asking Officer Chen to make sure Chris got home fine. You even contemplated leaving the bar and going home, at this point. You didn't at all expect someone to come up to your booth and ask to sit.

"Is it okay if I keep you company, officer?" Nines looked at you with a raised brow, his head cocked to the side expectantly. A small, hesitant smile was tugging at the corners of his lips. Those damn butterflies were back with a vengeance.

You said yes.

The two of you had barely exchanged more than a "good morning" before, being as you were always doing patrols and he was relatively new on the detective scene under Reed. But sitting in that booth with Nines was like sitting in your own little bubble, just the two of you talking like you had known each other for years.

The conversation started off on safe topics — work, current events, Connor and Hank, Reed and Chris (who you sent home in an automated taxi after _much_ reluctance). It slowly transitioned into talking about the political climate around Detroit; into the affects of deviancy in androids (where you learned, quite surprisingly, that Nines had yet to deviate from his programming).

Then, you brought up the coffees.

You had never seen an android blush. Frankly, that was something you never imagined they could do. But it was when the color of his cheeks turned a slight blue due to the thirium in his system, and he reached a hand behind his head awkwardly in such a _human_ action, that you realized that Nines would be your undoing.

And hell, you would let him.

Even though Nines and Connor were so similar, there was just something so uniquely, undeniably _him_. It was the way words sounded coming from his lips. It was the way he gestured with his hands. It was the way his eyes stayed steady on you while you spoke. It was the way that one lock of hair fell on his forehead when he laughed. As he continued speaking, Nines leaned forward onto his elbows. He was talking about something regarding his partner, but you weren't really listening because his foot had found yours under the table and _for the love of God, is he trying to play footsie?_

You don't know where it came from, but the most childish giggle escaped from your lips. Heat immediately rushed to your face. "Oh, _God_. Oh, kill me, _please_." Your hands shot up to cover your face, attempting to hide the embarrassment.

Between the space of your fingers, you saw that Nines was _beaming_ at you. For a few moments the LED flickered back and forth between yellow and blue as he processed something. "Y/N, that was… most endearing."

"We _never_ speak of this," you said, looking him in the eye. A mistake on your part, admittedly, because with one look he had disarmed you and you mirrored the contagious smile.

Nines said with a wink: "I make no such promises."

It started one week after that night at Jimmy's, when you had come to the police department incredibly early and planted yourself at your desk to work on case files. Nines came to your side, placing a warm cup of coffee in the same spot it usually would be. You looked up at him gratefully, taking it immediately.

"You are a _lifesaver_, Nines."

Nines gave you a genuine smile, greeting you with: "You're uncharacteristically early for work today."

You let out a soft laugh, blowing on the surface of your drink. "Yeah, well, I thought I'd be a good partner and give Officer Miller a hand with paperwork," you explained. "His son Damian has been a handful, I hear."

Reed called for Nines to follow him out before he could respond. You noticed his LED blink yellow before returning to its usual blue. "He's received a lead in our case," Nines said, the corners of his lips turning down slightly.

You searched his grey eyes, hoping to see why he looked so disappointed. "Isn't that a good thing?"

Nines' LED flickered again. He straightened his usual black-and-white jacket before stating matter-of-factly, "I have found your company more preferable as of late."

That feeling was back in your chest—the butterflies.

"Nines!" Reed yelled back from the front lobby.

"I'm coming!" He started walking away, stopping only to say, "Enjoy the rest of your day, Y/N."

"You too, Nines." Your eyes followed him until he disappeared into the lobby. You couldn't help the smile plastered on your face for the rest of the day.

It was two weeks after Jimmy's when you both started messaging each other whenever you had moments to yourselves. Nines wasn't necessarily issued a phone to communicate with; he relayed all communications within his system. That also meant that he could send you messages with a single thought. Your phone would buzz sporadically, with a text from him — loads of "this made me think of you" and "be careful on your beats."

Chris noticed quickly, of course, because you always had a dumb grin on your face every time you read one of those texts. One night while you and your partner were out on patrol in the cruiser, you had to stifle a laugh because Nines had sent a photo of Reed passed out at his desk.

"Alright, who is it?" Chris demanded, raising a brow in question.

You merely blinked at him, a ghost of a smile still on your lips. "What do you mean?" you asked innocently

"I _mean_, who's this fool that keeps blowing up your phone and having you come in every morning like you love going to work?"

"Chris, I am offended. I _do_ enjoy going to work."

"Not first thing in the morning you don't!" Chris rolled his eyes, checking his mirrors before making a turn. "C'mon. We're partners. I gotta know these things."

"You just like to be on top of the gossip," you shot back, shoving his shoulder lightly.

The cruiser was stopped at a stoplight. The red light washed over the dashboard and the interior of the car. Chris looked at you, at the phone in your lap, and back. As if on cue, your phone buzzed, and a text message preview lit up the screen (as well as Chris' face). "It's Nines! You're dating Nines!"

"We're not _dating_," you pressed, cheeks feeling flush as the heat crept to your face. "We just… enjoy each other's company."

"_And_ talk non-stop, and you're most definitely gonna fu—"

A red car sped past the cruiser, going at least 60 in the 35. Chris switched on the lights and sirens and accelerated forward, the prospect of you and Nines lost in the moment.

Before long, three weeks had come and gone since that night at Jimmy's. It was then that you noticed the not-so-subtle touches that passed between you two. How he would purposefully go out of his way to walk behind you when the bullpen was busy, just to rest a hand on the small of your back as he went to his desk or out the station door. How his hand would linger on yours for just one second too long whenever he would pass you case files. How you would stand incredibly close to each other whenever Captain Fowler would call everyone for a debrief.

All these things were subtle, yet sharp reminders of the kaleidoscope of butterflies swarming your stomach. They reinforced the developing feelings that you had for Nines, eradicating the seeds of doubt in your mind.

And it seemed you weren't the only one that noticed. Reed called you out one day because Nines' LED would go crazy every time you came by, and he was briefly worried that his android partner had some sort of factory defect. The detective was too busy scanning over the suspect files you'd brought over to notice the inconspicuous hand placed on Nines' shoulders.

"These are all the latest transcripts from the suspect interrogations," you said, withholding a smile when Nines leaned into your touch.

Reed, still flipping through the papers, was none the wiser. "Right, whatever," he muttered mostly to himself. "Was this really _everything_ CSI found at the scene?"

You started carding your fingers through the hairs at the nape of Nines' neck absentmindedly, all the while catching Reed up to pace before Chris' voice came over your radio asking for assistance elsewhere. You barely made three steps before Reed called after you, saying, "Hey, L/N, I think you broke my android."

Turning, you looked at the detective, confused. "How could I have _possibly_—?"

"His LED thing always goes haywire whenever you touch him," Reed answered, throwing a hand in Nines' direction, who brought his own hand up to his temple. A smirk stretched across Reed's lips upon seeing the slightly panicked look on both of your faces. "Oh, c'mon, don't look so surprised. The whole department sees it, the flirting over coffee. The eye-fucking thing, though, now _that_ shit's getting old."

Reed got to his feet with his empty coffee mug. You and Nines merely watched in a stunned silence as he walked to the break room nonchalantly.

"Y/N, it's getting pretty late. You gonna be heading out?" Chris asked, hiking his bag over his shoulder.

You let out a loud sigh as you finished the sentence you were typing, looking at the nearly empty station. Only a handful of police officers were still around, absentmindedly typing on their own keyboards. It never failed to impress you, how dedicated the department was. It filled your chest the same way helium from a birthday balloon fills a small child's. "I think I'll stay a little longer," you said. "No one's waiting for me at home."

Chris gave you a pointedly skeptical look. "Suit yourself, I guess," he responded, picking up his car keys. "Fair warning: the rain outside is picking up."

You gave him a smile. "Thanks, Chris. Drive safe."

"Yeah, you too," he said over his shoulder.

As he left through the front, you could faintly hear the heavy sound of rain hitting the ground. You let the sound lull you into a dreamless consciousness, even as the morning rolled around.

It was nearing one in the morning when your eyes started to burn from staring at your screen for so long. The cracking of your joints was audible when you got up to stretch. You started to gather your things, knowing you would only fall asleep at your desk if you continued. As you threw on your uniform jacket, you looked around the bullpen once more, noticing that everyone was gone.

Everyone except for Nines.

He was sitting at his desk, staring down at the folder in his hands. For a moment you wondered if he had gone into stasis mode, but he looked up to meet your eyes then, as if sensing your gaze. You gave him a sheepish wave before you approached his desk.

"Take a break, Nines," you said with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "The case will still be here when the sun comes up."

He only looked up at you, a lazy smile on his lips. "No rest for the wicked, as Detective Reed would say."

"Well, Reed is as masochistic as he is stubborn," you mused.

Nines chuckled slightly, and it was a sound that you could definitely get used to. "I suppose I'll see you in the morning, Y/N."

"That is if the rain doesn't kill me." You bid him a good-night as you left the bullpen and entered the lobby.

The front doors of the department were the only things keeping you safe and warm from the harsh weather that started to downpour. You threw on your hood and exited, bracing yourself against the cold rain that pelted down on you. You had just made it to your vehicle when you registered Nines' voice behind you.

You squinted at him as he caught up with you, both of you almost drenched through. You raised a hand above your eyes to at least block some of the rain. "Can whatever it is wait until it stops raining cats and dogs?"

"Y/N, I would find it displeasing if you were to die in the rain," he blurted abruptly, shoulders squared and hair falling into his eyes.

You realized then what it was about. "Nines, I didn't mean that seriously—"

"Approximately twenty-two percent of vehicular accidents are caused by bad weather, and nearly six thousand humans are killed from it annually." You watched the LED on his temple go from blue to yellow to an angry red. He concluded, "I don't want you to be another statistic."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm not going anywhere," you assured him. You stepped forward, grabbing his forearms and looking up to meet his eyes. The rain seemed to have lightened up, just barely. A smile spread across your face, brought on by a mix of amusement and appreciation. Then it hit you: Nines was _worried_. The cold, calculating detective you often saw was worried _about you_. "Nines, look at me. I'm right here."

He raised his hands to either side of your face, and his eyes searched yours for a moment. The icy greyness of them sent a shiver up your spine. Nines was all but towering over you, his face mere inches away. God, you wondered what he could be thinking right now. Your eyes flickered to his lips, and for a moment you wondered what it would be like to—

And then there was no room left for wonder. Kissing him was like succumbing to a hunger you never knew you had. Kissing him was like taking a fresh breath of air after being underwater for too long. Kissing him was pulling each other close despite cold clothes and running your fingers through his dumb, perfect hair.

Nines pulled away too soon. He probably realized you needed to come up for breath, but _you_ didn't care. Almost as much as you didn't care about being soaked to the bones with the rain. With his forehead pressed against yours, he kept his eyes closed. The yellow of his LED was bright against the dark.

"I must confess that these feelings I have for you are… unexplainable, at best." Nines looked at you, his own expression unreadable. "I'm not sure if that's good for either of us."

You pushed his damp hair back, a smile finding its way back to our lips. "I guess we'll have to find out together."


End file.
